Like a Lightning Storm
by Yami B666
Summary: She had never met anyone who annoyed her as much as Garth did. Stupid smug little spell-flinger.


It's amazing, really: I haven't written het in close to eight years. I hope this is up to scratch. I simply needed to take a break from my Garth/Reaver fic, so it's nothing all that special. I like it _just _enough to post it here. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

He was certainly puny for a Hero. In fact, if those glowing Will scars didn't crisscross his skin like chains of lightning across the sky, Hammer wouldn't have even pegged him as a Hero. He looked fit enough, despite his long imprisonment, and Hammer couldn't help but be suspicious of him. He had once worked with Lucien, after all.

But she had resolved to be civil towards him. To be anything else would mock the sacrifices made by Sparrow in order to rescue him. And she had missed Sparrow so, so much.

But when Garth gave her a critical glance over and muttered reproachfully, "You must be Hammer," her resolve went out the window. She drew herself up and rounded on him, a move that never failed to intimidate its recipients.

"And _you _must be Garth - Lucien's lackey."

To her amazement, instead of flinching and turning away, Garth smiled sardonically.

"I was made to understand you may be mistrustful. I _didn't _anticipate your staggering wit and intellect." His voice was accented - she remembered reading in Lucien's diary that he was from Samarkand - and it held a faint note of amusement. She scowled, able to only think of a threat in response.

Stupid smug little spell-flinger.

**

The long imprisonment had changed Sparrow. Her pure heart, her innocence, had been taken from her and tainted. Gone was the sense of urgency, the desire to take down Lucien as quickly as possible. And though Hammer mourned the loss of her friend, she couldn't begrudge her for it.

However, she could _easily _resent Sparrow for getting distracted by who-knew-what and leaving her stranded in Brightwood with only Garth for company. Oh yes, she had no problems with feeling bitter over that.

They were atop an old, decrepit steeple, a little way away from the gate leading to Garth's old Tower. Garth had insisted they remain out of sight, at least until Sparrow arrived. Garth stood with his back to Hammer, his gaze trained on Bower Lake Road as he watched for Sparrow. The silence was making Hammer edgy. He hadn't said a word for hours now.

"You're almost as quiet as Sparrow," she grumbled finally, desperate to start any sort of conversation. Garth glanced at her, the eyebrow over his uncovered eye raised.

"Perhaps I simply have nothing to say?" he replied shortly. He turned away again, and Hammer's temper flared.

"Your head can't be _that_ empty, surely!" she snapped. He began to laugh, an awful mocking sound, and she flushed. "_What?_"

"One needn't have thoughts in one's head to start a conversation," he said at length. "You've proven that well and truly, I believe."

Hammer gaped at him, wondering if she had ever hated someone so much in her life. "I wish we could've left you in the Spire!" she blurted, before she could stop herself.

Garth turned around fully now, meeting her angry gaze evenly. "And _you_ are like a lightning storm." he said.

"What's that meant to mean?" she asked, bewildered. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

"It means you are impressive at a distance, yet you are incredibly unpleasant to be caught up in."

Hammer took deep, calming breaths, willing herself not to smack the smug little spell-flinger.

**

Never in a million years had she ever thought she would feel sorry for him.

He had taken her by surprise when he agreed with her about the dangers of superstitions. He had sounded so annoyed when he declared they would have to fight their way to the Tower, yet he could easily hold his own in battle. His mastery of the Will took her breath away; she had only even seen Sparrow control it, and Sparrow wasn't anywhere near as good as Garth.

But it was the things he said as they fought that sent chills down Hammer's spine.

He looked a Spire Guard in the eye as he charged and, summoning those Blades that floated around his head, he growled, "I remember you. I'm going to prolong this!" He dodged a Spire Soldier's attack and threw a handful of fire at it, shouting, "What's the matter? I'm not amusing anymore?" And perhaps the most chilling of all was when he asked triumphantly, "It's not so much fun when I can hit back, is it?"

She could only guess what had happened to him in the Spire, and how much her comment about leaving him there had hurt him.

When the Cullis Gate malfunctioned, she couldn't even bring herself to make a snide comment. She gawped at him as his shouts played over and over in her mind, and she reached out to clasp his shoulder.

"Garth, I-"

But Garth shrugged her off. "It's fine, Hammer." he said shortly, turning away.

Hammer didn't think it was. She felt guilty, angry for him, and she wondered whether Sparrow had suffered the same treatment. "No, Garth, I didn't realise-" she began, but Garth cut her off again.

"And nor should you have." He looked up at her, a scowl on his face. "You know too much about it as it is. I hope Sparrow never tells you what went on in that place, because I would hate for you to suffer nightmares over this."

"What makes you think I would suffer nightmares?" Hammer asked, taken by surprise. He gave her a small smile.

"Because you are the sort of person who cares, even when you don't want to. It's both an asset and a fault."

Hammer understood well enough. After all… "Sparrow was like that before she went to the Spire," she said.

Garth nodded. "As long as one of you remains unchanged," he said softly. Hammer blushed faintly, and she wasn't sure why.

**

"What was Lucien like before?" Hammer asked.

She didn't really want to know, but Garth had gotten into an argument with Theresa back at the Guild, and he hadn't spoken since. He had demanded to know why Theresa simply couldn't teleport them to Bloodstone, the way she had transported him to the Guild when they met. Hammer had listened in curiously, but Theresa never gave a straight answer. Garth was losing his temper when Hammer dragged him away, stating that she wanted to visit Oakfield and that there was safety in numbers. Theresa had let them go without argument; she was clearly sick of Garth.

"Before what?" Garth asked, sounding guarded. He always walked with his head down, like he didn't want to look at the world, and his hands were always curled over the spell book he kept at his waist or his many scrolls and vials, as though to keep himself from fidgeting. Hammer didn't understand why he always appeared so self-conscious; he was certainly the opposite when he had something to say.

"Well, he wasn't always mad, was he?" Hammer asked, grateful that he had finally spoken. Not that she was worried or anything.

"He was ambitious, but normal enough." Garth replied, his voice lacking any sort of emotion. "Grief over his loss drove him to insanity."

Hammer's anger flared. Was Garth seriously making excuses for Lucien? "So what? Everyone's suffered," she spat. "I don't see anyone else going around killing innocent people in order to take over the world!" Garth silenced her with a sharp look.

"You asked to try and understand Lucien better, I answered. Do not bite my head off because you aren't satisfied with the answer."

She flushed and looked away, mumbling an apology. What was it about Garth that invoked such strong emotions in her? The man was infuriating.

"The difference between Lucien and anyone else is the way they've dealt with their grief," Garth continued, quieter this time. "Yours has given you strength. His has consumed his mind."

Hammer looked at him in surprise, wondering if Theresa had told him about her father, or if Garth was just guessing. Probably the latter, given that Hammer had expressly told Theresa to keep her mouth shut about the matter. Hammer didn't want false sympathies from strangers.

They arrived in Oakfield in the early hours of dawn, and the only people that were out were drunkards as they stumbled home. Garth glanced at Hammer expectantly, waiting for her to lead the way.

The golden oak had been planted over her father's grave. It was flourishing beautifully, a symbol of life for all of Oakfield, but for Hammer it simply served as a reminder of what she had lost. She knelt down in front of it, suddenly overcome with emotion, the memory of her father's death and funeral now fresh in her mind. Garth kept his distance from her as he went to gaze across the sea, and if he was curious he didn't show it.

"I haven't forgotten my promise, Father." she whispered simply. She wiped her eyes, making sure they were completely dry before she stood and faced Garth.

"Let's go back to the Rookridge Inn, I don't want to be here anymore." she said shortly, unable to keep the quiver from her voice. Garth nodded, his face unreadable.

They agreed to catch a coach back to the inn, and they had just paid the coachman when a vaguely familiar voice stopped them.

"Sister Hannah?"

Hammer froze, meeting the monk's eye. She recognised his face under that hood, but she couldn't recall his name. It didn't matter anymore; it wasn't as if she was ever going to return to the Temple of Light. Garth gave her a curious look.

"It _is _you!" the monk smiled good-naturedly, but all Hammer wanted to do was to tell him to get lost. _He _was one of the men that had so easily forgotten about her father, one of the monks that had so simply carried on with life after the attack. She wanted nothing to do with him.

"You haven't been here in such a long time," the monk continued, oblivious to her foul mood. "Why, I don't think I've seen you since-"

"It's Hammer now." Hammer cut him off shortly, turning away to get into the carriage. "And we were just leaving."

"Oh, right." the monk sounded taken aback. "Well, best of luck to you."

She and Garth rode in silence for what felt like hours, her heartache slowly fading. Garth's soft voice broke the silence as effectively as a shout.

"Hannah is a pretty name."

Hammer glanced at him, surprised that he had made such a comment. "I suppose it is," she agreed begrudgingly. "But Hammer suits me."

Garth gave her a small smile. "So does Hannah," he said quietly.

**

Garth was handsome in his own peculiar way, Hammer decided resolutely. They had fought their way to the top of Brightwood Tower easily enough, given that there were so few Spire Guards stationed there now. Lucien had turned his attention elsewhere, it seemed.

She watched Garth mull over his old belongings, his brow furrowed as he sorted what was destroyed from what was intact. How he was able to keep track of everything without writing it down was beyond her, and she couldn't help but think him impressive.

"Is something wrong?"

Garth's voice snapped her from her reverie, and she realised she had been staring. Shaking her head, she quickly turned to fiddle with something on the nearby table.

"Ah, you probably shouldn't touch anything." Garth said apologetically. He was by her side in an instant, taking from her the glass beaker that she had picked up. "I can't even remember what was last in that, but I would rather not risk whatever residue is left reacting with the natural oils on your hands." He placed it back on the table quickly.

"Natural oils?" Hammer scoffed, but she moved away from the table all the same. Garth silenced any further sceptical remarks with that stern look he was so good at doing.

"I jeered once, as well. I have the blind eye to prove it." He said bluntly. He waved her away as she gave him a shocked look. "The glass exploded, and a piece caught me in the eye. I would rather it not happen to anyone else."

"So I guess I won't touch anything then," Hammer muttered. She went out onto the little balcony overlooking Brightwood. Night had fallen, and the thick cover of trees hid any light that would signify life on the woods' floor. But bathed in moonlight, the woods were beautiful, and she said so to Garth.

"It's hard to believe they're so dangerous." she added. She heard Garth chuckle.

"The danger adds to the beauty, I find." he said simply. "Like a wolf."

Hammer snorted at the sentiment, able to hide her surprise that it had come from Garth. She grinned at him over her shoulder. "Or the sea?" she asked, unable to resist poking fun at him.

But Garth only smiled. "Yes," he said quietly. "Or a lightning storm."

It took Hammer a moment to realise what he was saying. She blushed brilliantly and turned away, unable to keep the big stupid grin off her face. She heard Garth chuckle again as he began to sort through his belongings, and quickly decided that she wanted to hear that laugh more often.

_Stupid smug little spell-flinger, _she thought fondly.

**

Reaver was a real piece of work. Hammer didn't like him one bit. And it wasn't because, as they waited for Sparrow to arrive at Heroes' Hill, Reaver held Garth's full attention. It certainly wasn't because Reaver was providing Garth with the intellectual conversation he so clearly craved as they debated over some science rubbish that Hammer barely understood. And most of all, it certainly wasn't because Reaver was standing so very close to Garth as they spoke.

She wasn't jealous. Not one bit.

"Have it your way," Reaver conceded finally, with an elegant shrug of his shoulders. "I'm bored now." He turned and made his way over to the other side of the circle, where Theresa was waiting for Sparrow. "Those blue lines of yours are pretty, Mage. I must get myself some." he added lightly.

Garth shook his head, and Hammer quickly hurried over to him before Reaver snatched up his attention again.

"You actually like him?" she hissed disbelievingly at Garth. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Green doesn't suit you," he said simply, and Hammer scowled furiously. She. Was. Not. Jealous.

_Well, maybe just a little…_

Garth laughed softly at her. "He is useful, and smart enough. I don't need to like him, Hammer."

Hammer grumbled, embarrassed by her conduct. "Well, good." she muttered, turning away. Garth laughed again.

"Besides, his personality is almost as unpleasant as your temper."

**

Garth had cared for Lucien, once.

Hammer could tell as much from the look on his face as he tried one final time to get through to his old master, to make him open his eyes to his madness. Lucien only scoffed at him.

They were in the Spire, Hammer was sure of it. There could be no other explanation for the dull grey walls that seemed to stretch on forever. She was trapped inside a small circle, akin to the one at Heroes' Hill, and she could only watch helplessly as Lucien set upon Garth. Garth wasn't even trying to hide his despair as he faced his old master and friend, and it broke Hammer's heart.

"It has been awhile," Lucien said softly to him. He tilted Garth's chin up, examining him with a critical gaze. Garth clearly couldn't pull away. "You look well. I owe you, you realise, for the chaos you brought upon the Spire not so long ago." With that, he delivered a swift blow to Garth's stomach. Garth gasped and dropped to his knees, the wind knocked out of him.

"You bastard." Everything else forgotten but the need to help Garth, Hammer lunged for Lucien, intending to break his head open with her bare hands. As soon as she came into contact with the invisible barrier imprisoning her, a rush of white hot pain surged through her body, blinding, never ending, and she couldn't stop the scream that was torn from her throat.

"Lucien, leave her be!" Garth's desperate voice sounded so distant. She dimly registered his cry of pain and realised that Lucien must have hit him again. Finally, Reaver's voice broke through the pain.

"Yes, yes, you can attack the helpless. We're all very impressed."

Ironic, coming from him. But it worked. The white hot pain stopped. Hammer climbed to her feet, panting, frantically wiping the tears of pain from her eyes.

Garth was still on his knees, his arms still clutching his midsection. Lucien glanced from him to Hammer expressionlessly, then seized him by the front of his jacket, forcing him to his feet.

"You will watch her die, Garth." Lucien said softly, stepping away from him. "Perhaps then you will understand, and empathise."

Hammer heard Reaver and Garth cry out in pain in turn, and then her world went black.

**

Sparrow was alive. Hammer felt dizzy as she gazed at the woman, so much older than the girl she had first met long ago. Her expression was taciturn, his mouth set into a thin line as she watched Lucien die, and for the first time Hammer thought she saw a flicker of pity on her friend's face.

Hammer felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. For the first time in more than ten years, she felt free, and laughter bubbled up inside her when Reaver said lightly, "Oh, I thought he'd never shut up."

It died when she saw Garth's closed expression. He did not speak until Theresa offered to send them wherever they wished, to which he answered shortly, "I wish to return home. To Samarkand."

Her heart broke when he looked to her expectantly, a faint glimmer of hope on his normally stern face. She wanted to go with him, to remain by his side even when he annoyed or angered her, but she couldn't do it. She needed to get away from this whole ordeal, needed to remove any reminders as she came to terms with it. Garth was a reminder.

"I want to go north, study with those warrior monks." She didn't dare glance at Garth as she spoke, just imagining the look on his face was tearing her up inside. The weight had returned to her shoulders; even now, she wasn't free to do as she pleased. She watched numbly as Reaver made a snide comment before disappearing in a flash of light. In a moment, Garth would do the same, and she wasn't sure if she would ever see him again.

There was a small smile on Garth's face as he looked from Theresa to Sparrow. "I had my doubts about you at first," he said to Sparrow. "But I'm glad we met. And we will meet again." To Hammer's surprise, he glanced over at her, his smile growing slightly. "You can count on it."

Hammer watched as he disappeared, her heart feeling a little lighter. She knew, then. She would see him again, even if she had to find him herself.

**

Seven years passed before she saw him again.

It was amazing, really, how often she thought of him, how many times she had dreamt about him during her time with the warrior monks. It was strange how time seemed to fly by when she was studying or training, and slow down whenever she thought of him.

It took her the better part of a year to find him in Samarkand. The people were friendly and helpful enough, always quick to tell her what they knew of the "strange, glowing man with the foreign accent". It seemed Garth had stayed in Albion long enough to have picked up a few Alban quirks, including a lilt to his accent. It was sad how he didn't really fit in anywhere: in both countries, he was labelled a foreigner.

Garth was a quick traveller, and Hammer almost gave up on finding him a number of times. But she pushed on, reminding herself how pathetic she would be if she lost hope. Never seeing him again would hurt her far more than this long search.

An elderly woman with a kind face pointed her in the direction of the little town's tavern, and Hammer took off for it, footsore, weary, but utterly excited because the woman claimed to have seen him _today._

He was there, sitting at the table by the fire, engrossed in a book, and the tightness around Hammer's heart loosened. He hadn't changed at all - he looked a little more relaxed than she remembered, but that was because the people in this region of Samarkand tended to be reserved in everything they did, including drinking. This was the quietest pub she had ever visited. The calm atmosphere suited him.

She quickly weaved her way through the patrons towards him, barely containing her excitement. She nearly laughed when he didn't glance up once, though when he didn't look at her even after she sat down beside him, she made an affronted noise and snatched the book from his hands. He rounded on her, visible eye narrowed, mouth set, ready for a fight when-

"Hammer?" his tone was incredulous, his expression disbelieving, and Hammer laughed. This was _exactly _the reaction she had hoped for.

"Hello to you, too." she said, pressing the book back into his hands. He barely registered it. "You said we'd meet again, remember?"

"I did, didn't I." Garth relaxed again, his initial shock over, the sweet smile that Hammer had missed so much playing across his face. "I'm glad you didn't make a liar out of me."

Hammer laughed again. "Did you miss me?" she asked, tossing her head with a false air of arrogance. Then she softened. "I missed you," she said softly. Garth could only nod as she tugged him forward into a kiss.


End file.
